couldn’t think of anything to say besides “Whatever that means.”
“You see, you and your family have no idea of the cosmic scope of what you have gotten yourselves involved in.”
I stepped backward, bumping against the wall behind me. “You either,” I said, meaninglessly.
“The great machine’s relics? What has a simple family like yours to do with such treasures? Still, your cooperation may serve me well.”
“Yeah, like we’d help you.”
Darrell, come on and get in here! Really, in the whole airport, no one has to go to the go room?
“I could yell for help,” I said.
“Sounding an alarm will do neither of us any good.”
My fingers twitched. I wanted to hurt him somehow, to make him feel the terror that the Order made us feel. My hand dived into my backpack. Because it was shaking so much, it took me a second, but I finally whipped out one of the daggers. It felt wrong to be holding a deadly weapon, but I jabbed its short, wavy blade in the air anyway. It looked silly in my little hand. “Tell Galina to let Sara go.”
He flicked his dead eyes at the dagger, then back to my face. “Perhaps you do not know French, but allow me to enlighten you,” he said. “Galina Krause has given me carte blanche. This means ‘blank check.’ In other words, I may do as I wish. Wielding a dagger in this manner is impolite. Furthermore, it means nothing. You will not use it. You will never use it, Wade Kaplan.”
“Stop saying my name!” I gripped the handle so tightly my knuckles turned white. But he was right. I couldn’t imagine using the dagger. How could I hurt a person? Even a bad one. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
“We will want both daggers also,” he said. “But keep them for now, if it gives you comfort. We will meet again soon … Wade Kaplan.”
All at once, the entrance to the corridor filled with shapes, and two young boys and their father trotted in, chattering and laughing. Before they saw me, the German strolled out past them, whistling a melody that sounded like a wolf howling.
I staggered out into the concourse. Fear rolled over me like the sweat dripping down my arms, my face. Darrell sauntered over from the snack stand, munching one Snickers bar while tearing open the wrapper of another. “I got one for you, but I had to eat it … Dude, what’s with you? Did the sink explode? You’re dripping wet.”
Barely able to stand on my own feet, I glared at him. “Thanks to you, I’m never using a bathroom again.”
When we got back to the gate, Dad was flipping mad. “You never do things alone! I told you. Darrell—you messed up!”
“Dad, I’m sorry,” he said. “The phone call was so good …”
And more of the same, while I felt the blood drain from my face, neck, and head. I said, “I’m sorry, Dad. We’re sorry. It was … I didn’t expect he really was a Teutonic Knight. Dad, I’m scared …”
He settled me quickly into his seat. “All right,” he said more calmly, though his face was dark and anxious. “All right.” He scanned the crowd, but of course Leathercoat was nowhere in sight. “Please tell me again exactly what he said. Word for word.”
When I repeated Leathercoat’s actual words, most of it sounded weirdly polite, almost friendly. I realized the menace was in what he didn’t say. Allow me to pick your brain … kindly remember this fact … allow me to enlighten you … if it gives you comfort.
Dad listened intently, completely silent himself, as if, once more, he was trying to draw the whole incident into himself. Finally, he brushed my wet hair from my forehead. “Okay. Okay. You handled yourself very well.”
“Should we tell security?” asked Becca. “Wade is scared, and so am I, Uncle Roald. Leathercoat says he wants us to cooperate? He’s saying we can’t tell anyone. Are we just going to do what he says?”
“No. No. I don’t know.” Dad looked around the busy gate and breathed sharply. “First, we’d have to prove something against him. Threatening is hard to prove, but it would certainly mean we wouldn’t get to New York for another few days. Look, I get it. Not contacting the police helps the Order as much as it might help us, but that’s a risk we have to take, at least for now.”
“Like Terence told us, and the investigator from Bolivia,” said Lily.
“Exactly,” he said. I saw his face grow more determined. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “So, no police for now. But one way to look at this is that Leathercoat just blew his cover. He knows about us? Well, we know about him now, too.”
I hoped that would help. Leathercoat had said we were in way over our heads. He was so right about that. I tried to swallow, tried to slow my pulse. I failed at both. Finally, with my hands quaking like leaves in the wind, I scribbled in my notebook. I wrote down everything I remembered of what Leathercoat said. Then I wrote down the sad dream. It was all pretty frightening stuff.
After what seemed like a century, the welcome announcement came.
“Now boarding Flight Five-Thirty-One to San Francisco and New York.”
Good, I thought. Get me out of this place. I stuffed the notebook in my backpack and headed quickly into line.
The jet was packed. The attendant at the desk told my dad that the flight had been overbooked and that one of our five seats wasn’t with the others. The loner was three rows back, which I said I would take, but Dad wanted us all together.
The man with the green shoulder bag was in the window seat across from our other seats. He already had a blanket draped over him and sat leaning against the window.
When another passenger—the long-haired acrobat guy who’d stood on his hand for the baby—came in, heading for the open aisle seat, Dad asked if he’d mind switching with me.
“Or are you two together?” Dad asked him.
“No, no.” The acrobat glanced at the man by the window, then at me, and smiled. “Not at all. Please, son, sit here.”
So after we were settled, Darrell and I were split by the aisle. He only took his seat—he was the last one to sit before the cabin door closed—after making sure Leathercoat wasn’t on our flight. “I didn’t see him. But if he works for Galina, he’s too good to be seen.” Which didn’t make any real sense, and didn’t slow my pounding heart, either.
As the jet taxied from the gate to the runway, the man with the green bag turned to me. “I am Dominic Chen,” he said, extending his right hand.
His fingers were ice-cold. “Wade Kaplan,” I said.
“I like to sleep on overnight flights,” he said with a slender smile, “but the protocol with fellow passengers
